


Into the Woods

by RomanDiget



Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teenwolf mtv
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanDiget/pseuds/RomanDiget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A camping trip seems like ideal R&R for the pack. The Forest God has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Woods

It was a camping trip. Their combined packs or maybe better called two divisions of one pack. Derek was born a werewolf; he had made Isaac, Erica and Boyd. Peter Hale had made Scott. Derek may have bested his uncle for Alpha rank, but neither Hale had ever been able to compel the Scott’s allegiance. Stiles was their common bond, he was Derek’s mate. Not by some magical fate or destiny, but because they chose to be mated. 

The attraction was magical enough, no denying that, and there was real magic present in both of them. But they had chosen to take the real physical and emotional chemistry to the next level. They had endured devastating loses as children, internalized those tragedies as somehow their fault, grown to young men in a haze of self-blame and guilt.  
Once you are launched down that path, that view of the world, it is easy to hold yourself aloof. Too easy believing you are a danger to those you might care about and far too easy to believe anyone that cares about you is misguided. If they knew what you were really like they would reject you too. That kind of thinking is not self doubt, it is self loathing.

It was an unsung bit of heroism that they both had learned to trust the other’s nobility. Derek had learned to accept that Stiles saw goodness in him that he often doubted was there. Stiles took comfort in the fact Derek was nigh indestructible and committed to protecting those that were not. It had never been about not trusting each other, it became about teaching each other to trust themselves.

Even a small pack requires logistics to travel any distance. They had driven most of the day before, pulled into a KOA near midnight and were out again at dawn’s early crack. A rural highway, and about 50 miles of logging road to the edge of the Yolla Bolly wilderness area. There wasn’t a proper hiking trail from the road’s end, just a deer path, crossing what had been a burn-scare and was now a meadow full of pink fireweed and yellow lupine. The trail vanished up into a tumble of basalt, boulders big as locomotives. The mountain’s foot towered over all. 

Jackson had declined the invitation. He was bent on turning his looks into fame and fortune. Getting his eyes full of smoke and sleeping in a canvas bag on the ground was not his idea of a good time. So off to Hollywood he went for Spring-Break. Lydia on the other hand was glad to get away from the crowds. Ever since she had learned that her birth father was Bane Siddhi. Well the previous course of upward social mobility through marrying wealth had lost its appeal. 

Jackson was part of their pack, well sort of. Derek and Peter had shared in his making, breaking him free of the Kainama taint. However, the scars mental and spiritual of that experience prevented him from true transformation. He was strong and he was fast but only marginally more so than the well trained athlete he had been already. He did have a full share of the Pack Bond and through him so did Lydia. 

It was her friendship with Allyson that had drawn her into the Pack’s orbit. The Argent’s daughter was tall, leggy, muscled, and fierce. Lydia had despaired of achieving that level of gorgeous. She was petite, pretty, and voluptuous enough to turn heads on every block but the world was full of pretty high school girls that amounted to nothing more. A fate she was determined to avoid. 

By the time Stiles pulled up in his jeep, Lydia had unloaded the Argent’s truck, organized the back-packs and begun foraging in the meadow Wild Foods Field Guide in hand. He was glad she came. Their relationship wasn’t what he had imagined since first grade, but Lydia and Scott were the two people he had loved longest if you did not count his parents. He desperately hoped that he would get to love them for a very long time more. 

On the other hand, the person he loved most was not so happy to see her. Derek had envisioned a couple of weeks with the pack he made, Boyd, Isaac, Erica and Stiles. Just some time in the woods, chasing deer, fishing, sitting by a fire and telling stories that he never had time to tell because there was always some Nasty preying on the humans living on his turf. A werewolf was an apex predator, they did not suffer rivals. 

Stiles could feel the discontent vibrating off of Derek. He on the other hand was ecstatic. The person he loved most and two he had loved longest on a camping trip away from every other human being. This was awesome. What could possibly go wrong? 

“You’re going to regret that.” 

Stiles killed the ignition and turned a wary eye on his lover. “Regret what? Loving who I love?” He wasn’t quiet used to Derek’s ability to pick the words out of his head, but he had learned it was futile to complain. Allyson said his face was like a marque. Everything that crossed his mind was there for anybody to see. Seriously he was working on that, it could get somebody dead one day. But Derek, well Derek had an inside track. 

“No, I’m fine with who you love, especially since you love me most.” The werewolf offered his trademark evil grin. “But don’t challenge the universe to throw trouble in your path. You’ll regret it every time.” 

“Noted, but I am allowed to be happy yes?” 

“If you’re not happy, I want to know about it straight away.” 

Derek leaned across the bench seat and kissed him on the mouth and took his time about it too. Stiles felt his face light up like Rudolph’s shiny nose. Lydia and Allyson were leaning against the Argent’s truck very pointedly not looking at Stiles jeep. 

Isaac’s SUV pulled up in a cloud of slow rolling dust. In addition to Derek’s three betas, there were two cubs that had survived the Gerard Argent’s brand of ethnic cleansing.  
Deaton had brought them to Derek. Twelve year old Reynard had bright ginger hair while her brother seven year old Canis had a dark sable mop. They both had night terrors fit to wake the neighbours, were sullen, argumentative, and hostile to authority. Given what they had lived through and how they had survived, Stiles thought they had every right to that behaviour.

It was his idea to take them camping. Get them away from the hostile glare of the Argents and their henchmen, the regular shittyness of kids mimicking grown-ups and their shitty ideas about who had power and who did not. They didn’t look very happy, and from the pinched expressions on the Betas it was mutual. 

He had run the idea past Deaton and Marisa both, they had agreed getting the kids into a non-human environment; one that they could explore freely wouldn’t hurt. Whether it would help was debatable. Marissa cautioned Stile to patience, recovery from this depth of trauma was never quick.

Allyson and Lydia were already descending on the new arrivals. Stiles grinned triumphantly. The two young women were the least threatening and the most effective at getting the cubs to behave. They must have had a good start, the cubs responded to mothering with immediate obedience. 

“I suppose this means we are going through with this little adventure.” Derek quirked an eyebrow at Stiles. 

“Hell yeah. Come on Sour-wolf, you and me making love under the stars. You want to trade that for another night in a camp ground?” 

“I would have sex with you in front of the Pope, but I’m pretty sure Allyson would kill us both if we do anything were the kids can see us.” 

Stiles opened his door stretching slowly as he got out of the jeep. “Probably true. But that means Scott and Boyd aren’t getting any either.” His smile held a trace of malice.  
Scott turned a baleful look in Stiles direction. “I can f-cking hear you.” Stiles waved cheerily at his friend, muttering just loud enough for the other Alpha’s superb hearing. 

“You were supposed to.” 

It was Scott that invited Allyson and Lydia to come along. Allyson was Scott’s pack by the same virtue Lydia and Stiles were part of Derek’s pack. When a male werewolf deposited his seed some of the attributes of being a werewolf passed to the vessel; accelerated healing, greater strength, speed, better hearing, smell, night vision, and the all-important pack-bond. Not to the same degree as a true werewolf, but enough that the three human members of the pack were not a deadly burden on their lovers.  
Stiles was happy enough to have the girls help with the cubs. Erica was a crashing disaster and Boyd even worse. However, he had never got a straight answer out of either alpha about what was going on in their contest over him. Or even why there was a contest. Every time he got close to the subject Allyson rang up. Stiles had been planning to ambush his buddy in the black-hole of cell-phone service that was the wilderness area. 

There was suddenly much coughing from all the werewolves except Scott. Even Boyd found it amusing. But he did not have a vengeful werewolf hunter as a future father-in-law. Scott might have thought this was going to be his honeymoon break. Wrong again buddy. 

Lydia looked up from adjusting Reynard’s pack straps. There was a suspicious gleam in her eye. She was not 100% comfortable hanging around the pack but they were the nearest thing she had to equals. That had become very important once they were out of high school. 

Allyson whispered in her ear and she laughed out loud. “We are all going to get lots of nice sleep breathing good country air.” In an overly hearty voice. 

Stiles filed that away. Either Allyson could hear them or she had guessed with surprising accuracy. The cubs were scowling as darkly as Scott if not for the same reasons. They were a little young to be picking up on sexual innuendo. At least he hoped so. Deaton had found them living out of dumpsters in Phoenix. There was really no telling what they might have seen or worse in that situation. 

More than anything Stiles wanted these kids to learn they could make choices. They need to know they were not helpless victims, if only because ‘victims’ rarely applied morality to their own actions. They were after all werewolf cubs, stronger, faster, potentially deadlier than mortal children. With that strength, came responsibility. It was overly much to get in one trip but it would be a start. 

The pack was lucky to have Marissa available. The cubs needed professional therapy and all gods be blessed there was a therapist in Beacon Hills that was a super-natural being herself. He wasn’t sure what kind and right now he didn’t care. She had got him through some rough stuff. A regular head shrinker would have drugged him insensible and walked away. 

Lydia interrupted his reverie grabbing his collar and hauling him to the truck. The back-pack she thrust at him was enormous. “Oh, you must have got the packs mixed up. You want Derek to carry that.” He spared a glance for the alpha, and saw he was already adjusting the straps, if anything Derek’s pack was bigger than his.  
Lydia was having none of it. “Listen here Mr Lacrosse player, that pack is less than half my weight. Are you going to tell me you can’t carry little me piggy-back over ten miles of bad country?” 

His long standing crush and the ridiculous lengths he had gone to get her notice him were almost legendary. Stiles prided himself on having no dignity whatsoever. However, given the obvious mismatch in tactical ability he bowed to the more powerful foe. 

“I see you have made allowances for my various handicaps and stand corrected mistress Lydia.” He even bowed. 

Lydia patted Stiles on the ass just to watch him jump before turning to organize someone else. Derek grinned. It had taken him a while to understand Stiles constant whinging was self-mockery. The boy grounded him and his perfectionism in ways that Laura would have approved. 

Scott had gone ahead. He was their point-man, making sure nothing unfortunate was around the next bend. The line of hikers strung out across the meadow with Derek bringing up the rear. It was sunny and warm down here. Spring had not yet made its way into the higher places. The peaks surrounding them were snow-capped, shining with laser brilliance. It was close enough to a childhood memory to make Derek feel a little giddy. 

He had not been this way since he was a cub himself. Derek remembered this mountain as if he had been here last week. Scott found the waterfall easily with Derek’s directions. As predicted there was a pool suitable for bathing and a wide enough space for them to pitch tents and have a fire. 

Lydia would have laughed at anybody calling her a domestic-goddess, right before punching them in the nose. Derek found himself admiring her sense of organization and efficiency. Lydia gave direction and received obedience as if she was the Alpha. Two large tents were more than enough shelter if it decided to rain. An old fire-ring was unearthed and restored to working order with improvements. 

Though he did questioned her judgement when she announced the cubs were sharing a tent with her. The cubs were prone to nightmares. He’d been woken from a sound sleep by their screams more than once. He had also suffered the petty vengeance of resentment and miss-directed rage. If all three of them emerged in the morning with less than bruises he was ready to offer her the Alpha’s role. 

Stiles was staying out of her way; circling the campsite repeatedly with a distracted look on his face. Derek saw he was tracing runes onto the trees and boulders with one of his oils. Marisa had been training him for better than a year now. Stiles witchcraft was real enough to foil Furies and un-make a Kelpie when those had contested the pack’s right to its territory. 

Derek was confident nothing like that was around here. But his lover’s wards would banish bears and cougars just as readily. With cubs along that was a useful precaution. Deaton would skin him alive if the cubs came to harm. 

The fire was going and Lydia had something simmering already. That was a good thing. A meal cooked over their fire and this would be a proper wolf’s lair. He planned to take at least one deer on this trip. Wild meat tasted better and the cubs were old enough they should learn how to feed themselves. Too often a newly turned wolf had no training and humans were the only thing slow and weak enough for them to kill. 

Lydia left the fire and went to Stiles where he was brooding over the pool. Ever since the kelpie he had been mistrustful of standing water. Derek let them have their privacy. He had no part in making them. Their strength and skills made his pack stronger, a gift he would not disrespect. 

Those two talked for a bit. Then Lydia went back to the fire, her expression was thoughtful. Derek had quit treating them like children. They were young still but children did not stand up to monsters and win. They had, both of them had. 

Scott was next in line. Derek smirked. That one was still a child, if he pushed too hard Stiles was going to hand him his nuts on a plate. 

Where the water cascaded over the granite face it foamed white, even in the gloom. The pool wasn’t deep. In the daylight you could see the bottom clearly. The rock face behind the waterfall was solid as the mountain itself, all very reassuring and therefore grounds for suspicion. Scott was hovering in the shadows. Stiles didn’t have to see him to know he was there. 

He was pretty sure what Scott wanted to talk about and very sure he wasn’t interested in that conversation. Staring fixedly at the water with a thoughtful expression however was not daunting enough. Scott settled himself gingerly on Stiles boulder, close enough Stiles could feel his body heat crossing the hand span between them. All he had to do was wait. 

And wait he did. “Why don’t you want me to sleep with Allyson?” And there it was. 

“It’s a non-issue Scott. Lydia has the cubs with her in the tent. That leaves the other one for you and Allyson.” 

Unfortunately Scott did not take his win and go away. He hung out, quietly thank the gods. He was trying for a companionable silence and failing. Stiles knew what was bothering him. They did not hang out anymore. The girlfriend came first and she needed attention, lots of attention. 

Derek had told him to wait. Give them time to settle in and feel like their relationship was secure. But it never did, a year, 18 months, two years and they were still besotted with each other and Chris Argent was still sniffing after his daughter like a jealous husband. 

Which was most decidedly none of Stiles business. One thing he knew for sure, if Scott ever came to that conclusion, Christopher Argent would be nothing but a wet spot in about two minutes. He wasn’t going to have that conversation with Scott. There was no reason to expect it would get better. So, for now he let Scott swing. 

Dumb-ass was leaning hard on Stiles last nerve, and Allyson was getting a glint in her eye that I did not like. I kicked a rock on purpose. It bounded past Scott’s hand then rattled down the bank hitting the water with a liquid plop. That got his attention he saw me coming and decided to take a hint. 

I did not want to sit in companionable silence. I wanted to neck with my boyfriend. The pack-bond is a burden and a blessing. You can’t ignore when a pack member is upset or depressed. Polite fictions don’t exist in our society. You also know when a member is injured and where to find them.

Stiles was already on his feet and moving toward the rocky niche I had scouted out earlier. A little privacy was called for and if we kept the noise down Allyson would have nothing to complain about. 

I was glad Derek pulled a lone-ranger. I suck at lying, I suck at hiding how I feel, or what I think. All of which is balanced by Scott’s ability to miss the obvious. I would have been working myself into a proper misery now, except Derek had a hand on my low back supporting me as we scrambled over boulders and logs. It wasn’t very many minutes before his hand was down my pants looking for his happy place. I’m not complaining. 

He had found a spot where two boulders dovetailed forming a proper grotto. Anything rolling off the mountain should whiz overhead and even werewolf vision can’t penetrate a few tons of stone. I knew he had a place in mind. I just did not expect it to be so comfortable. He had done much more than scout. Our sleeping bags were spread over a thick layer of cedar boughs, next to a tin of essentials placed where either of us could easily reach it. 

At these moments, why I would care who brought me into the pack seemed like the stupidest thing ever. Derek’s lips were on my neck and his hands were on my hips. He was mine and I was his and that was all that mattered. 

“That is exactly right.” The words brushed against my jaw giving me shivers, the good kind.  
“You wear this for ironic value right?” Derek was already drawing the red hoody over my head. For a second he stopped, with my arms still in the sleeves and effectively pinned above my head, thick cotton muffling my words. “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?” 

He had managed to get my T along with the sweat shirt. One hand held the bunched up hem over my head and holding me captive. The other was free to molest my bare torso. Derek was whispering against my skin. 

Delicious things, wicked things, things that made married people blush and stutter. And it was for me, it was all about me. 

When the second hand assisted the first in finally removing my shirt and I was free, a neat twist of my hips pulled Derek off-centre. He held onto my wrist as he toppled and I followed him down. 

A gust of cedar scented air surrounded us as we hit the pallet he had made. Derek was under me, and not resisting. Was this the night I could give him what he gave me? I was astride one leg, his other canted aside. Hips were open and our hands mutually tangled in my shirt over his head. My lips were only a few inches from his as I leaned over him. 

My knee nudged against his centre, mutely asking. Derek’s pelvis rolled into the contact. He was mine and I was his. My mouth took what belonged to me; his free leg wrapped itself around my back and pulled me to him. 

Heady strength sang in my veins. His scent filled me. The taste of Derek’s mouth under mine was sweet like cider. He strained under me, not in resistance but in desire.  
The black T-shirt fell to tatters in my hands. His skin almost scorching under my lips as I licked and nibbled my way down his torso. Jeans came off though getting his legs free presented a delay. 

Then I was in the Promised Land. My cheek rested on Derek’s thigh while his other leg curled around my ribs. Fingers feathering his shaft, gazing at the monster and wondering that it not only fit inside me but felt so good doing so. His thatch of silken ink curled wantonly around my fingers, grasping and clutching, stones, tight against his root. And below that, the mystery that was Derek’s core. 

I had never been here before, not from this angle and not with this intent. He wasn’t hairless, but even here there was a lot less fur than you might expect. He didn’t jump when my tongue quested in that direction. His skin always had a musky flavour and it was strongest here. Different colognes appeal to different people. I’ve never much like artificial scents but Derek tasted like bitter chocolate and chilli and I would eeffn bath in that stuff if they made it. 

I dragged his hips to meet my mouth. Heard him cough in wonder, felt his legs spread offering me greater access. And dove in, I did not need an engraved invitation. When it was me, it felt like I was his universe and he could not believe he was lucky enough to exist in it. I wanted to give that to Derek. 

It wasn’t hard, he opened to me, I fell in head first; and it was a universe. It was a wonder, finding the places that made his breath catch and others that made him sigh. He was squirming against me inviting me deeper. My tongue has talent, he’s told me that over and over again, but it can’t reach all the places that need to be touched. I remember that. A finger slides past my mouth, catching his rim and tugging it wider. 

Derek cries out. I snicker quietly, revenge had no part in my plan but it’s sweet just the same. He is muttering threats, impotent threats as I dig deeper inside. There is a rough buzzing whine in the back of his throat as I try and fail to reach all the sweet places that need my attention. I do however, find his bump. He hisses and quivers as my fingers trace the outline. 

Derek’s fingers catch in my hair. I’ve been growing it out for him. He likes hair pulling both giving and receiving. “Stiles… if you don’t fuck me now…”  
Gods I’m almost afraid. Not of what he will do, afraid I won’t be able to give him what he has given me. But I’m no piker, not as long as he is, but thicker, and that I’m told by those who know, is better for this. 

I reach for the tin, in the dark it’s mostly by feel but the greasy plastic bottle comes to hand easily. We’ve had a dozen of these conversations and the agreements are solid. There is something missing for me when he spills in a rubber.

The coconut oil is in my hand but I hesitate. Derek’s eyes spark red. “Don’t you even think about it.”  
Sex ed. doesn’t prepare you for inter species relationships. He’s got that broody look on his face. The one where he thinks he is going to be frustrated. “Sour wolf.” It’s almost a pet name now. 

He groans again around my fingers. It’s different if you are usually the bottom. You know, those soul deep sounds are not agony. It would be easier if I took him from behind the first time. I’m not that generous, I want to see his face as I slide home. 

I’m never totally asleep in a strange place, but I had felt so comfortable since we arrived. Then Stiles… at his worst he makes me see stars. Tonight had been the exact opposite of his worst.  
I was awake now; straining to identify the wrongness that tweaked my senses. There was almost no wind at this hour. The scents on the breeze were what they should be, mice, weasels, a badger had passed by. Deer were still grazing on the mountain, but nervous about the strangers below. I had caught a whiff of wild boar earlier, but there was nothing now. 

A child’s shriek split the night. 

I was dreaming. I knew that because centaurs and fauns are mythological and men did not have Deer antlers growing out of their heads and horse cocks hanging between their legs. 

“Reynard!”

Derek was bounding over boulders almost faster than I could see him move. I was behind him, naked as the day I was born but it didn’t matter. Well it mattered less for Derek because he had claws and fangs to resort to. But it didn’t matter because our cub was in trouble.  
An electrical crack and splash of light came from camp. 

“Oh no! You don’t!” That roar, yes, ‘roar’ came from Lydia. I would never have guessed she could go mama bear. But I should have. The amount of crashing, growling, and snarling sounded like a pack of hyenas being boiled in oil. I saw Derek’s silhouette against the glow as he cleared the final boulder. 

And then a voice that shivered through my bones, made my blood leap and my nerves misfire dropping me in my tracks. “Puppies? Is there no dog among you, not one?”  
Followed by silence, I mean ear-shattering silence. The kind of silence that rings like a fire alarm because it is so not natural. Something bad just happened. I was practically gagging on terror. I’ve been scared plenty, afraid for life and limb, afraid that I would fail; everyone would die and it would be my fault. But this was different. This was a ‘I am a cockroach and someone turned on the lights’ kind of fear. This was a creation had been a miss-step and God had just noticed. Whoever, owned that voice had the power to unmake worlds. On that point I was certain. 

I crawled under a rock and lay there shivering.

It might have been an hour; it might have been a year. Then a bird screamed and the forest erupted in shrieks and howls. My heart pounded and the breath wheezed between my ribs. Wings beat against branches and claws scrambled on bark. I staggered to my feet, found my direction and climbed over rocks and trees on all fours like an animal until I reached the fire-ring. 

At first I thought it was just fear. That it was the night dimming my sight, the chill making my nose run. I thought once the adrenalin quit pounding, my body would sort itself out. But there was another dimension to the silence. I could hear the birds and animals just fine, the wind in the trees as dawn broke. I could hear the thunder of my heart and the tide of my blood rushing through my veins, and no echo. No other hearts, no tide wash of pack blood. I thought of Derek as I did a hundred times a day and his smile did not greet me. 

A huge shadow loomed in front of me and I cringed. The snapping of polyurethane in the breeze identified our tent and then the other. I found the fire-pit, ashes cold and damp. Lydia’s flashlight turned under my foot almost ending me. 

The sky was lighter, but not light enough. I had not needed a torch in ages but was glad of one now. Allyson’s bra and Scott’s boxers draped across the entry to their tent. The sleeping bags rucked but still zipped shut. Lydia’s tent was in worse shape, a gaping hole had been carved out of the plastic wall. Bedding strewn aside as occupants had tried to avoid the intruder. 

Boyd and Erica, Isaac, they had been sleeping a little ways off, bedding scattered in haste as they rushed to defend their pack. What had attacked them?

I went back to Lydia’s tent. The layer of duff and leaves was several inches thick, damp, springy, and not inclined to hold a track. If I were one of the wolves, I could tell by scent. As it was I would have to make do as a human, crap hearing, fairly decent vision if I had enough light and my wits. Wits I had and to spare. 

No blood, no bodies, and no pack-bond. It was as if my pack had never been. Just a few hours ago I was buried inside Derek so deep; I could taste myself when I kissed him. I could still smell him on my skin. He was mine and I was his. Someone had taken my Alpha, my pack. They were going to be nine kinds of sorry when I was done.  
We had fought half a dozen kinds of monsters in the past two years. With one notable exception they all bled and they all died. It was possible she had gotten free and come for vengeance, possible, but not likely. Even she needed a body to do mischief. 

Whatever it was that had attacked us was several orders of magnitude more powerful than the incubus. There were stories. I had asked Deaton, and he had said the Old Gods were sleeping and would remain that way till worlds end. Whether worlds end was a time or a place was not certain. 

I did not bother with breakfast; there were trail-bars and soda. Good sturdy shoes were going to be more useful. I made a point of singing the sunrise, burning a bit of sage and sweetgrass, meditating and invoking the Powers for understanding. I didn’t have confidence in divine help but I wasn’t going to skip the opportunity to get some.  
Now I was climbing the mountain. There was something here, something watchful. I hoped it was watchful enough to know who could do this thing. The sky glowered, cotton candy clouds curdling into unhealthy colours and wind whipping them toward frenzy. The timber was primary forest, tree trunks as big as trucks were the rule not the exception. Wherever the sky showed, brush and saplings were jungle thick.

I wasn’t terribly good at ley-lines but the mountain’s energy was almost blinding. I could be head blind and still find these. Only a couple of hours had passed when I saw her. Black hair past her knees, almost making up for the dress she wasn’t wearing. Very pretty, in that come hither so I can make you a corpse, and you won’t mind sort of way. 

It was unlikely a sprite knew anything useful and more unlikely she would part with it willingly. I ignored her. You think a woman scorned is frightful? Ignore one that thinks she’s pretty. She put herself in my path twice more, the third time standing directly on the trail. Either she was guarding something or she was really really hungry.  
I smiled friendly like as I walked up to her. “Hello, you haven’t seen my friends have you?”

She lunged for my throat, triangular teeth showing in an impossibly wide grin. The salt and ash clutched in my hand fumed upward meeting her mid spring. She hit the ground hard and lay there twitching. 

Her shriek climbed the octave scale till leaves shivered from the trees. My walking stick was good quality Mountain Ash. I struck her once on her ankles, once where her heart should be and once between the eyes. 

“In the name of the three, the seven and the nine, I bind thee to three true things.” Tolkien is Awesome! Guard the mysteries reveal them daily. 

Her squeals ceased. She was prone, rigid as a corpse, hands and claws tight to her sides, legs closed like a shy virgin.  
Her eyes mirrored the boiling clouds above, that was not good. It was possible I could only bind the form not her nature. Driving the butt of my stick into the earth I watched her flinch; that was better. I dusted the last bits of salt and ash from my sweaty palms over her face. She didn’t scream. So, I knew she had some pride, dangerous, but useful to know. 

“I have not seen your friends.” And I grinned. “No you haven’t because if you had I would never have known you existed.” It was a threat, not very subtle. I really did not feel like subtle or gentle right now. 

“That is one true thing.”

“It may be true but it also predates your binding. I’ll ask the questions, thank you very much.”

Now she screamed and the wind gathered force. The trees above groaned loudly. “Quit stalling Pixy, I carry enough salt to turn you into jelly.” I’m not comfortable with threatening women. Though whether she could honestly be called female was doubtful. 

But I had her attention. “Name your questions.”

I smiled or I tried to. “Were you sent after me?” She went still. Not the question she was expecting. That almost made me smile. It’s not true Fairy can’t lie. They simply think it is beneath their dignity. Yes or no questions are best with Fairy, slippery as lawyers the whole lot of them. She was being quiet too long. I gave my bindings a psychic twitch. 

“Yes.” 

Useful. “Were my friends taken to draw me?” She looked genuinely confused. 

“Why, aren’t you asking who or where?”

“Not the question I asked.” And struck her knee caps with my stick. The peal sounded like breaking glass. From her expression it might have felt like it too. Red blood flowed where shattered bone broke the skin. 

“Yes!”  
I was starting to feel like the evil one now. Every time she opened her mouth to speak I saw the horror that was her hunger. She liked to kill and she liked it best when they were young and innocent. Knowing she was strong enough to go head to head with Derek only soothed my guilt a little. It was time for my third question.

“Is it Kanati you serve?”

The hair on my arms danced a little jig. The Pixy let loose a wail of despair as I dove for cover. Lightning licked the ground with hungry tongues in all directions. A moment later the rain fell in sheets. So hard, branches snapped and tumbled under the weight of water. 

The lightning had gouged a shallow trench in the duff. The clay underneath was scorched rust and already filling with water. Little flecks of black, white, and grey danced like paint chips. Cremated bone is fragile stuff. My walking stick was still sticking out of the ground. A blackened spiral pattern crisscrossed the fair wood; I touched it gingerly and found it cool. 

“Alrighty then!” 

There are stories. This one wasn’t in Deaton’s books but I knew it anyway. It had taken all morning for the storm to build and only a few minutes to empty its belly. Wind stilled and sky cleared to a hard brittle blue. Bird song erupted and the earth absorbed the crystal clear water like a sponge.  
This was not the mountain in that story but maybe the teller had it wrong, or maybe that mountain was in many places at once. If I failed here North Carolina was always an option. I kept climbing. 

There once were two boys. One was good and obeyed his parents. The other insisted he was an orphan that his parents had thrown him in a river to drown. But they lived together as brothers. One day they followed their father to see where he made meat. 

The trees opened up and a meadow of the sweetest green I had never imagined lay before me. There were deer, elk and bison grazing in that meadow. I wasn’t here to make meat, though killing was not far from my mind. Across the meadow was the mountain’s wall and I went that way. 

A boulder lay against the mountain’s base. Smaller than a Mack truck, bigger than a 4x4 it looked like it was half buried too. Not looking good. Derek could probably move it. Twenty or thirty draft-horses could almost certainly move it. But a scrawny white boy with some herb lore and a few rhymes. Doubtful. 

I leaned on my stick, both hands gripping the top, and my forehead resting on my knuckles. I felt more like crying than anything else. There was a little breeze and while I hoped the God wasn’t getting ready for another push I didn’t know what I could do to stop him. Something was tickling my nose, just enough to be really irritating. Snuffling and snorting I reared back to wipe my face clean with a sleeve. Curled around my ring finger were five silky black hairs. 

And fer sure I thought I was going to bawl. If only I could keep this little bit of him. One by one they loosened their grip and fluttered to earth. It was breaking my heart for real. There was a cantrip for gathering things together if I could remember how it went. 

Deaton’s book had lots of small useful things like that. But a different page came to mind. Then I was very busy. A circle traced in the soft ground around the hair, scribing runes like crazy. Sweat ran in my eyes I was focussed so hard, when I cleared my eyes, five black ants were in the circle. I broke the binding. “Go find your daddy.” The little buggers scurried straight for the stone. 

Alright that question was answered. There was magic and then there was MAGIC. I had my knife and a mirror out of my pocket in a flash. A baldy head was not Derek’s idea of sexy but I could torture him for weeks while it grew back. The first pass of my knife sprinkled my shoulders with soft brown fluff. 

I heard a delicate cough.  
“I am sure everyone appreciates the sentiment, but maybe you are over thinking things.” She was not pretty. Her dress was green, gold and her hair a sunburnt blond. 

I’m sure I stared like an idiot for five minutes. She couldn’t be who I thought. But I was half hopeful as I sassed her. 

“Oh so it’s that easy? He kidnaps my pack, makes me piss myself literally, sends a sprite after me, tries to take me out with a lightning bolt, and all I need to do is give this thing a shove?” I suited action to words and the stone rolled aside like it was on wheels. She smiled. 

And I burst into tears, because the first thing I saw/heard/felt was my mate find me in our pack-bond. All the rest, right after, but Derek was first. And I could feel/see it in his mind how they had hunted all over the mountain for me, fought a troll and then a giant spider. “And oh gods what did Stiles think he was doing wandering off like that?”  
It’s not really words inside the bond. There is no arguing or persuasion, just what is. What is from that member’s view of events. I didn’t want to argue anyway. Five minutes ago I was broken and dying by inches, now I was whole. Do your worst sour-wolf. 

Stiles looked into the cave for his family, it was a short tunnel. On the other side was a deep forest. Derek and Scott were first racing through followed by Lydia, and the cubs; Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. Derek kissed him once before slipping behind, making room for the pack to greet their found brother. Scott was almost angry in his relief, Lydia questioning, the cubs were being polite but their resentment level was back on high. That was no good. The betas were just relieved, bone crushing hugs all around. Then there was Allyson and her bow bringing up the rear. 

“You’re safe!” She said sounding grateful, and gave him a one armed hug. Stiles felt a chill when she touched him; a chill that confused him utterly.

Derek was pressing against my back, arms wrapped around me while Allyson backed away smiling. I looked around we were standing in an ordinary meadow, green grass, wild flowers and the most extraordinary bumble bees. The Goddess was nowhere to be seen but she never had been one to answer questions anyway. The God was no better.  
Deaton said ‘the gods were sleeping till worlds end’. Possibly he had missed that memo.


End file.
